


One Last Case

by Mx_Maneater



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Scooby Doo - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Detective Harry Potter, Halloween Challenge, M/M, Mystery, One Shot, Scooby Doo Style Mysteries & Hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Maneater/pseuds/Mx_Maneater
Summary: Voldemort was defeated after first year, soobviouslyHarry and the trio form a mystery-solving gang.  Otherwise, how would they sneak around the castle at night?*One Shot; Completed (written in the spirit of Halloween!)





	One Last Case

Graduation loomed bleak and heavy on the horizon. Tomorrow was Harry’s last day as a student at Hogwarts, and the thought filled him with existential dread. It had been his home for seven blissful years, full of friendship and closed cases, and he would be damned if he left here without one last victory. Something malevolent was prowling the corridors. One last puzzle. One last mystery. One last night.  
  
Harry shook Ron awake. He gasped softly, blinking rapidly for a few moments before sitting up.  
  
“Blimey mate, what’ve we got this time?” he whispered. It had been around second year that he had stopped being surprised at Harry waking him in the dead of night, eyes aglow with the thrill of a case.  
  
“Something’s out there.”  
  
Ron raised his eyebrows with a grin. “Yeah, I figured it was something like that.” He slipped out of bed, his boots already placed next to his trunk to slip into quickly. They both donned their robes to fight the chill of the still-brisk May nights. Without waking their roommates, they slipped out into the hall.  
  
When they got to the common room, Harry pulled a coin from his pocket. The pad of his thumb played across the fake galleon for a moment as he savored the ritual they had developed over the years. _First, he woke Ron. Next, they woke Hermione_.  
  
He tapped his wand against the coin, and the false date in the corner shifted to say “now.” It had been fifth year that Hermione had learned how to charm coins to communicate with each other quickly. Before then, he had tried any number of methods to get up to the girls’ dorm and wake her - including a short-lived phase of flying his Firebolt up and sneaking in like a creep. Nowadays, they had perfected their strategy, and Hermione simply slipped the galleon into her pajama pocket before bed.  
  
Usually it took her a few minutes to waken, get dressed, and come down; but tonight, Harry had barely pressed his wand to the coin before she appeared at the top of the steps. Reaching the bottom, she leveled a shrewd smile at Harry.  
  
“I knew you couldn’t leave here without one more case.”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, not really bothered with being predictable, as long as he had his friends with him tonight. He ran down the list again.  
  
_First, he woke Ron. Next, they woke Hermione. Third, they got Fang_.  
  
Harry threw the invisibility cloak over them, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the hall. Hermione stifled a giggle as they crouched and clunked into one another, the cloak no longer covering them as easily as it once had.  
  
They made it down to Hagrid’s with ease - having given Filch and Mrs. Norris the slip for so many years, it was practically effortless at this point. When they arrived, Harry pulled off the cloak and knocked, opening the door himself a beat later. Hagrid knew to leave it unlocked for them these days. After all, it had been his idea to lend them Fang all those years ago for their first big case with Quirrell and the Philosopher’s Stone. Since then, it had become a habit to take him along on their adventures - even if he was rather drooly and not the least bit brave.  
  
“Fang, here boy!” Harry whispered.  
  
The giant boarhound looked up at him through droopy lids and gave a mournful huff. After a long moment, he rose resignedly to his feet and lumbered over to the door.  
  
“Harry?” He heard Hagrid’s voice from the other room. “Is that yeh?”  
  
“Yes! We’re just borrowing Fang for a bit. He’ll be back by morning.”  
  
He heard a sleepy chuckle. “S’what yeh always say.”  
  
Harry smiled. “And I’m right, aren’t I? Most of the time, at least.”  
  
They slipped back out into the night, and Ron and Hermione looked at him expectantly.  
  
_First, he woke Ron. Next, they woke Hermione. Third, they got Fang. Fourth, they made a plan_.  
  
“Alright, so I definitely heard something in the corridors tonight. Some shuffling. Possibly even some scratching.” He pretended it didn’t sound like a pitiful excuse.  
  
Hermione gave him an indulgent smirk. “So we’re looking for a rodent infestation?”  
  
Ron shot her a nasty look. He was sensitive about the topic, despite his rat Scabbers having died of natural causes last year and not at the claws of Crookshanks like he had believed all of third year.  
  
“No,” Harry said with confidence. “We’re looking for a _niffler_. Someone’s setting a niffler loose in the dorms, trying to steal everybody’s valuables before graduation!”  
  
He always made grandiose claims like this - they were hardly ever right, but they got the investigations off to an exciting start.  
  
Ron frowned, the theory a little too outlandish, even for him. But he said nothing. Him and Hermione were both more lax tonight, nostalgia softening the edges from exhaustion and logic, seeing as it was their last night. It was their last run as “The Golden Trio” - as they’d come to be known - “Gryffindor’s Own Detective Extraordinaires.”  
  
“Alright,” Ron said after a few beats had gone by. “Who’s our main suspect?”  
  
Harry nodded sagely and continued. “Hmm, well I would say the Slytherins, but they have so much damn money, that I don’t see the motivation. I’m thinking...Snape.” It was his go-to. He thought it over a minute, possibilities racing through his head. “Yes, he hates the students - especially our year - so it stands to reason that he would want to get back at us before we graduate. And most people packed their stuff already, so they wouldn’t even notice anything missing until they got home and it was too late. It’s gotta be him.”  
  
“What would Snape use the money for?” Hermione asked, eyebrow sagging under the weight of incredulity.  
  
“That greasy git? Hopefully to buy some shampoo.”  
  
She pursed her lips then sighed. “So what’s the plan?”  
  
Harry smirked. “We catch him in the act.” 

  


Not even Harry really believed the bit about the nifflers, but he _had_ heard something earlier, so as he paced the corridors with Fang, he looked for anything remotely suspicious. They had split up like usual - Ron and Hermione taking the North tower, while Harry and Fang moved down towards the ground floor. Looking for clues.  
  
On the first floor, Fang came to a halt, growling softly. Harry crouched down and threw the cloak over both of them immediately. He always had it with him; Hermione had long since become proficient enough at disillusionment charms to hide her and Ron on their rounds.  
  
Mrs. Norris waltzed around the corner, glaring at the space she knew they were. She hissed for a few seconds, but earning no response, she sidled off down the corridor. The cat seemed to always know exactly where they were, which would be concerning if Filch could actually see them the times she fetched him.  
  
Harry smiled beneath the cloak. He would miss this - fooling her, driving Filch mad, being reprimanded with nothing but calm words and a wink from Dumbledore. He wished he could stay at Hogwarts forever and keep solving mysteries.  
  
When the coast was clear, he got up and started walking again.  
  
After a minute, he realized that Fang wasn’t following. “Come _on!_” he whispered.  
  
Fang didn’t budge.  
  
“Oh, for the love of…” He pulled some jelly slugs out of his robes pocket, dangling them in front of the dog’s drooly chops. Fang snuffled at them a moment before heaving himself onto his feet and padding after Harry.

  


They were investigating the Great Hall about twenty minutes later when Harry heard some muffled clanging noises. He reversed his _lumos_ and went very still.  
  
Finally, a clue. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchens.  
  
He pulled out his fake galleon and tapped it with his wand. The word “kitchen” bubbled up and solidified on the surface of the coin. He tossed Fang a jelly slug as they waited, casting _muffliato_ to silence the wet, slurping noises the dog issued at his feet. Hermione and Ron arrived after about five minutes.  
  
“Harry? What’d you find?” Ron asked a little breathlessly.  
  
Cast in the light of Hermione’s _lumos_, he put a finger to his lips and gestured towards the door to the kitchens. He pulled it open quietly, and as one, they slunk down the steps without a sound.  
  
As they were nearing the bottom, the clanging started again. Hermione jumped a little, but then set her jaw like she was prepared for whatever they might find. He believed it too - she had been brilliant at stunning spells in “The Case of the Dreadful Doxies.” They rounded the last corner, adrenaline urging them faster, and-  
  
There was no one there.  
  
Harry blinked in surprise as he scanned the room.  
  
Bang. Another noise.  
  
“_Lumos maxima_,” he whispered, and the room filled with pale, unearthly light.  
  
Crash.  
  
He flipped around to the left, where he had seen movement. He rushed over, followed closely by his friends and canine companion. By one of the tub-sized sinks, a pot clattered weakly against the counter. He watched with confusion as it shuddered up into the air again, wobbled for a long moment, then came crashing back down with a clang.  
  
“What’s it doing?” he said, voice a little panicky from the adrenaline.  
  
“A spell gone wrong?” Ron theorized.  
  
“Or the charm’s wearing down,” Hermione commented, pointing to the counter next to the pot. “Looks like someone was trying to get our attention.”  
  
Harry looked at the note he had not previously seen lying there. He snatched it up.  
  
“_‘You want a mystery? Come and get it. See you on the Quidditch pitch.’_ Well, that’s vague. What do you suppose the ‘mystery’ is?”  
  
“Let me see.” Hermione took the scrap of parchment from him and reread it several times. “Hmph, doesn’t look like there’s any hidden writing or anything.”  
  
She handed it to Ron when she was done, though likely just so he wouldn’t feel left out. They had gone through a rough patch fourth year where Ron believed they only kept him around to feel better about their own deductive reasoning, when, in reality, he had his moments of sharp insight as well.  
  
For example, he had been right in the “The Case of the Bad Brothers,” when he had suspected Fred and George. Students had been fainting willy-nilly around the castle with seemingly no explanation before the Golden Trio took up the case. After a week in which Madam Pomfrey believed the plague was upon them, Ron caught his brothers perfecting their recipe for Fainting Fancies down in the Kitchens where they were getting mixed up with the regular meals. “But these are the only _nice_ stoves in the castle,” George had whined. “There’s nowhere else with the means to mass-produce.”  
  
Ron scrutinized the paper for a moment before handing it back to Harry. “Okay, so are we going to the pitch or what?”  
  
Hermione gasped at him. “Of course not!” she exclaimed at the same time Harry said, “Yes.”  
  
She turned her glare towards him. “It’s _clearly_ some sort of trap.”  
  
“Obviously,” he said. “But it’s the only clue we’ve got tonight. You know as well as I do that there’s no nifflers.”  
  
She huffed, crossing her arms. “Doesn’t mean we should be _illogical_ about what’s in front of us.” Fang barked in agreement, and Harry shoved him some more jelly slugs to keep him quiet.  
  
Ron broke the tense silence. “I think we should go. But let’s scout it out from the edges first.”  
  
“That’s…” Hermione started, breaking eye contact with Harry, “...reasonable, I suppose.”  
  
“Good, it’s settled then,” Harry said. “Let’s go.” 

  


They snuck out of the castle through a side door and started across the lawn. Harry, as usual, took the lead, with Hermione, Ron, and Fang close behind. They had gone about a hundred meters when he noticed something on the ground.  
  
“What’s that?” Ron voiced.  
  
Harry crouched next to the long smear of slime in the grass. It was dark and foul-smelling, and he saw more lines of it stretching in the other direction towards the lake.  
  
“Algae,” he stated.  
  
“You don’t think-” Ron started. “I mean, it hasn’t caused any trouble in a long time.”  
  
He was referring, of course, to the giant squid - which had featured prominently in “The Case of the Sludgy Lake-Offerings.” During that particular case, slimy, crusty artifacts had turned up all around the grounds by night, every night. After weeks of investigating - and a veritable _war_ with the mermaids - they caught the giant squid in the act, hauling a rotting tire onto the banks. As it came to be known, the squid had taken to dredging up treasures from the deep and presenting them to the castle in some sort of friendship/mating ritual - no one had quite come to an agreement exactly _which_. But after keeping a spell on the lake that prevented it from leaving for a few days, it gave up and returned to the depths.  
  
But Ron was right - it hadn’t caused any trouble for nearly two years now. Why would it start now?  
  
“Well, it looks like the letter was just an excuse to get us outside,” Harry said, standing up. “There might be more surprises, so let’s stay on our toes and head towards the lake.”  
  
Hermione frowned, but she followed nonetheless.  
  
As they reached the banks, there was a loud, splashing sound. They broke into a run, reaching the water’s edge in a few quick seconds. Hermione stopped short, drawing a sharp breath, and pointed.  
  
Harry followed her gaze to the deep drag marks in the dirt. About ten feet out, the water was bubbling.  
  
“Shit,” he whispered. Then, he was tearing off his robes and sloshing through the shallows in his haste to reach whoever had gone under. Without listening to Hermione’s shout to wait, he dove headfirst into the inky black waters.  
  
The cold clenched his body like a fist, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he wouldn’t be able to move. But as he sunk, adrenaline pushed feeling back into his hands, and he paddled downwards.  
  
He couldn’t see anything.  
  
Harry’s feet touched the silty bottom, and he groped around in panic for any sign of the other person. His fingers glanced off of stones and seaweed, but nothing solid like a person.  
  
Fuck, he didn’t have enough air. He wouldn’t be able to last much longer and still make it back to the surface - but if _he_ couldn’t, there was no way the other person could hold their breath long enough for him to make it back down and find them. _Just a little more searching_.  
  
Harry’s hands batted at rocks and mud and scum, as he felt his brain being squeezed by the lack of oxygen. He _needed_ to go up. But what if they were just a little further? He couldn’t just give up. The darkness conceded no clues, but it could well have been his vision going black.  
  
Then he felt strong hands grasp his shoulders, and he was being pulled upwards.  
  
Harry burst through the surface, spluttering and gasping for air. “_Ron?_” he managed after a hacking cough.  
  
Instead of responding, Ron pulled him further into the shallows until he could stand. “That’s the _second_ time I’ve had to jump into a freezing lake for you,” he said.  
  
Harry blinked the water from his eyes. “I- I suppose it is. Thanks.”  
  
He remembered the first time, of course - he had been diving for a sword he needed to cut through a cursed plant that had taken over the Greenhouse. Since it was the sword of _Gryffindor_, however, it always needed proof that he was brave before he could use it, which had almost got him killed on more than one occasion.  
  
“_Harry James Potter!_” Harry flinched, but didn’t turn towards Hermione just yet.  
  
His eyes pled with Ron, but the ginger only snorted and whispered, “You deserve it this time, mate.”  
  
“Harry, _how could you_ be so stupid?!” Hermione splashed into the shallows to grab him by the shoulder and turn him to face her. “You just go _dashing off_ without listening to a word I say! And you left your wand in your robes pocket, which you _conveniently ditched_-”  
  
“But Hermione, there’s someone down there!” As the words left his mouth, he felt a fresh wave of nauseated panic. He needed to go back and find them.  
  
“No, there _isn’t!_” she yelled.  
  
Harry was shocked into silence.  
  
She pursed her lips, seeming relieved that he had finally fallen quiet. “If you had _listened_ to me in the first place, I would have told you that it was too unrealistic of a set-up. Think about it: if the squid has been inactive for two years, why would it come out now? And drag people into the lake? It never did that to begin with.”  
  
“It’s a squid!” he cut in. “We don’t _know_ what it would or wouldn’t do.”  
  
She growled in frustration. “If you want _evidence_, then look at the distance of the lake slime. The giant squid can only travel two hundred meters from the lake between its tentacle length and crawling abilities, otherwise it would beach itself. We were nearly four hundred meters away when we found the algae.”  
  
Harry thought about that for a moment. “But what about the drag marks? And the _bubbles_ \- we’re wasting time, someone is definitely down there!”  
  
“Harry, the set-up is made to make you rush, because of the time constraint. Whoever did this didn’t want you thinking about plot holes before diving in!”  
  
Ron was glancing nervously between them. “But what _about_ the bubbles, Hermione? What was that then?”  
  
She met his eyes steadily. “A bubble spell.”  
  
He raised an incredulous brow. “But why?”  
  
“To make it look like someone was drowning and have Harry jump in the lake like a fool,” she answered. “All they had to do was draw some marks in the dirt, toss a rock or something of equal weight into the lake to make the splashing sound, and cast a bubble charm on the water. It’s a simple, yet clever plan.”  
  
Ron crossed his arms. His expression twitched like her explanation made a lot of sense, yet he was hesitant to take her side over Harry’s. “Well, who would go to such lengths to make Harry look foolish?”  
  
“Snape,” Harry replied. To him, it was always Snape until proven not-Snape.  
  
Hermione pressed a hand to her face in tired patience. “No, Harry. Not Snape.”  
  
He glared at her accusingly. “Alright, who then? If you know everything already.”  
  
She set her jaw. “Malfoy,” she said, pointing her _lumos_ spell up at the tree behind them.  
  
Sure enough, the light fell upon a familiar blonde head and devious smirk. The pointy git was sitting relaxed as can be in the crook of two higher branches, one foot dangling from his perch.  
  
_First, he woke Ron. Next, they woke Hermione. Third, they got Fang. Fourth, they made a plan_. Fifth, _Malfoy came and ruined everything_. Every _damn_ time.  
  
“Well, hello _Potter_. Fancy a night swim?”  
  
The mocking tone, combined with the cold wind on his soaking wet clothes, made Harry livid.  
  
“You _bloody wanker!_” he yelled, leaping for his fallen robe to find his wand. “You _loathsome git!_” He was going to hex Malfoy into next week, and not even _Hermione_ could stop him.  
  
Malfoy tutted. “That’s not very nice. And here I was, just making sure you got a _bath_ in before graduation. I was doing you a favor, really.”  
  
Harry snarled, finding his wand at last in the pile of fabric and whipping it towards the tree. “You’re _dead_, Malfoy.”  
  
“Harry, no!”  
  
“_Diffindo!_”  
  
Harry watched with satisfaction as Malfoy’s eyes widened a fraction before the tree branch he was sitting on sliced neatly from the trunk. His hand was clutched tight to his wand, clearly expecting a hex, but he seemed unprepared for the world to be literally yanked from beneath him. Malfoy let out a surprised yelp as he fell.  
  
He landed in a messy pile by Harry’s feet.  
  
Harry smirked, nudging him none too gently with his shoe. He also took the opportunity to wipe some mud off onto Malfoy’s cloak.  
  
Malfoy startled from his daze and began to scramble backwards, but Harry grabbed him by the back of the robes and hauled him back.  
  
“See, I think it’s _you_ who needs a bath, Malfoy. Maybe it’ll wash the scummy plots from your mind!” He began dragging the blonde towards the water, ignoring his desperate flailing and shoving.  
  
“Let _go!_” Malfoy whined, as the water splashed over his dragonhide boots. “Get your grubby, _plebeian_ hands off me!”  
  
Harry pulled him another step, then released him with a hard shove. He fell into the water with a tremendous splash, only to surface seconds later, spluttering.  
  
“You _fucking_ cretin-” he pushed sopping bangs out of his face, grey eyes dancing with malice. “My _father_ will hear of this!”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, _sod_ your father,” he muttered, pointing his wand at Malfoy’s chest threateningly.  
  
The man’s chest heaved under the holly tip. His usually pristine clothes hung wet and ruined and on his lean frame, and Harry couldn’t help noticing how water droplets streaked down the sharp angles of his face. Malfoy was glaring at him like he always did, and - like always - Harry felt it stir a fire inside him.  
  
Malfoy made him so _angry_. He wanted to punch him. He wanted to strangle him. He wanted to-  
  
_Fuck_. He may never get the chance again.  
  
He leaned in and mashed his mouth against Malfoy’s. The man gasped against his lips, tensing. Then, he wrapped a hand around Harry’s bicep tightly to pull him closer. At that, Harry slipped a hand up the nape of Malfoy’s neck and pressed him harder into the kiss. He tasted distinctly like _lake_, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care as he ran his hands over Malfoy at long last.  
  
He heard Hermione clearing her throat loudly, and he pulled away with clear reluctance.  
  
“Fucking _finally_,” Malfoy murmured as he caught his breath. “I only had to devise a _hundred_ cases for you to catch on.”  
  
“Oh?” Harry smirked. “Then that’s another case closed.” 

  


The four of them plus Fang made their way back across the green towards the castle. Harry was sneezing and Malfoy was shivering at his side, but Hermione still refused to cast her much more effective drying spell on anyone but Ron. “Maybe you’ll learn your lesson,” she had said before flipping around and leading them away from the lake. “Stupid boys doing stupid things for attention,” Harry heard her muttering to herself in time with her steps.  
  
Ron had given him a sympathetic look, raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, and left it at that.  
  
They were nearly at the side door when Hermione stopped abruptly. She surprised him by turning and addressing Malfoy. “I have to know - why the letter about the Quidditch pitch? It doesn’t make sense.”  
  
Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“The _letter_,” she insisted. “Next to the charmed pot in the kitchens.”  
  
He glanced confusedly between Hermione and Harry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just did the lake slime.”  
  
Harry felt the air leave his lungs. A sinking sensation filled his gut. “What do you mean? That had to be you, right?” He pulled the letter from his pocket, wincing as it came out a dampened mess from the water seeping into his cloak.  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t-” Hermione started, trailing off when Malfoy snatched it from Harry.  
  
He tried unfolding it, but it was hard to do without the paper disintegrating totally. “_‘You want a mystery? Come and get it. See you on the Quidditch pitch.’_” He furrowed his brow. “This is clearly _not_ my handwriting.” And he managed to look offended by it too, like Harry _should_ know his handwriting.  
  
“Okay, well who sent it then?” Harry asked.  
  
Hermione pressed her eyes closed for a moment. “Oh, this is what I was worried about.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Ron cut in.  
  
“They just _seemed_ like two different approaches - two different people. But I’m afraid we have another case to finish tonight.” With that, she turned and headed towards the pitch.  
  
After a long, silent moment, they followed.

  


The moon hung low and eerie over the Quidditch stands. It looked so wrong, empty like this, and cast in long shadows. Harry started as something swept past him, but it was only a crow.  
  
They made their way across the pitch in silence until Hermione gasped quietly, signalling that she had seen something. She picked up the pace, taking them forward at a slight diagonal. Then, suddenly, she stooped and picked up a scrap of parchment from the ground.  
  
“What does it say?” Harry asked, unsure why his voice came out as a whisper.  
  
She squinted at the paper in the dark. “_‘Brilliant sleuthing. Now prepare to face the cost.’_” Her face paled as she read it aloud.  
  
“What does that-” Ron began, but stopped to watch Hermione aim her wand past him.  
  
“_Lumos_.” Nothing happened. “You try,” she said, shakily.  
  
“Me?” Ron asked.  
  
“All of you,” she snapped, voice bordering on panic.  
  
Ron lifted his wand. “_Lumos!_”  
  
Again, nothing happened. Harry and Malfoy tried as well to no avail.  
  
“What’s going on?” Malfoy hissed.  
  
“I think we’re trapped in a magic-reduction circle,” Hermione whispered.  
  
“What does _that_ mean?” Harry asked, not liking the desperation he heard in his voice.  
  
“It means we can’t use magic, and we can’t leave.”  
  
“That’s _bollocks_,” Malfoy said, but the certainty in his voice wavered.  
  
Hermioned turned to glare at him, but he continued. “It’s too complicated of a spell. You’d need both an enclosed area, laced with the proper spells in advance, and a potion that the victim must take in order to link them there. It only works when the potion is in your system.”  
  
Harry blinked at him in surprise.  
  
Malfoy, catching the look, jutted his jaw in annoyance. “I can fucking _read_, alright? It shouldn’t be this shocking.”  
  
“Err, right,” Harry stammered. “Well, if that’s the case, we didn’t take any potion or anything-”  
  
“No, we did.” Hermione’s voice was quiet, yet resolute. “We didn’t drink anything, no, but we _did_ all touch the letter.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I think the parchment’s been soaked in potion, which then got in through our fingertips. That’s why it was wrinkled like it’d gotten wet and redried.”  
  
Malfoy had paled considerably as she spoke, leaving him white as a ghost. “Well, let’s just test it then. Weasel, you go walk off the pitch.”  
  
Ron scowled. “You’re just saying that because you’re too scared, and you don’t want _Harry_ to get hurt ‘cause you fancy him apparently.”  
  
Malfoy looked away guiltily. “Well, someone’s got to try,” he mumbled.  
  
“I’ll try,” Harry said, ignoring Malfoy’s worried glare. He turned toward the castle and started walking.  
  
The further he got from the center of the pitch though, the more he felt a strange sensation of invisible resistance. It was like he was attached to an elastic cord, every step pulling the band tighter and tighter around his insides. He soldiered on another few feet until he physically couldn’t breathe, then stopped.  
  
He was still about thirty feet from the edge of the pitch.  
  
With a sigh, he turned and started back towards his friends. When he was closer, Hermione nervously asked, “What happened? I didn’t see a barrier or anything.”  
  
“No,” he confirmed, “but it felt like it was pulling at my guts the whole time. The further I went, the worse it got. I-”  
  
They heard glass shattering to the left.  
  
Purple smoke rose from the glass, and Harry had only a moment to consider what that meant before the world was twisting into blurry grey lines.  
  
Suddenly, his friends were gone.  
  
Dark figures crept across the edges of the field, beckoning with incorporeal talons. Something cold wrapped around his ankle. He shuddered, tugging his foot, but unable to loosen the grip. Harry felt himself unbalancing, and he fought to stay upright, knowing that he was done for if he fell. While he was standing, at least he could try and _run_.  
  
At that moment, another clammy hand wrapped around his other leg and pulled, knocking him flat on his stomach. The dirt was cold and hard, and he couldn’t see anything, and he was going to die before he fucking _graduated_-  
  
And then he heard Hermione’s voice cutting through the sound of his own frantic heartbeat, and she was yelling “_Go Fang!_ Go!”  
  
He heard a snarl and a thud. More glass breaking. His eyes blinked uselessly, comprehending nothing under the effects of that purple potion.  
  
Then, all at once, he could see again. Harry flung himself into a sitting position, shocked to see Malfoy clinging to his legs with freezing lake hands.  
  
He was rubbing at a bruise on his cheek. “You kicked me, _prat_.”  
  
A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of Harry. “Sorry, I thought you were a swamp monster or something.” He glanced around to find Ron clinging to Hermione’s robes, and Hermione staring past them at something going on in the distance.  
  
“What just happened?” Harry asked.  
  
“Hold that thought,” she said, whipping out her wand. “_Incarcerous!_”  
  
To Harry’s utter shock, the spell worked, sending ropes across the green at a dark figure that he hadn’t noticed struggling on the ground. Hermione took off towards the figure, and they all sprinted after her.  
  
“It was Fang that got us out!” she yelled as they ran. “He was brilliant! Of all of us, he was the only one that hadn’t touched the potion, so he could get past the magic reduction circle!”  
  
They came to a stop in front of the figure now squirming on the ground in the ropes. Their face was obscured by a dark robe hood.  
  
“Well, I think Fang probably saw something that scared him in the hallucinatory fog - that dog’s scared of his own shadow, so it’s more than likely - and took off out of the circle. He then knocked into the culprit, who had gotten close enough to throw the vial of purple hallucinatory smoke onto the pitch, and incapacitated him. The boarhound’s impact forced him to break concentration, and therefore the barrier was broken, releasing us.”  
  
The figure stopped moving, then huffed a dry, familiar laugh. “And I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you _meddling kids_.”  
  
Harry rolled him over with his shoe. “_Snape?!_”  
  
He looked to Ron and Malfoy, who looked equally shocked. Hermione, however, only narrowed her eyes at the Potions professor.  
  
“But _why?_” Harry asked. “I mean, I know I always say it’s you, but this time, it’s _really you_...”  
  
“Revenge,” Snape spat. His black eyes gleamed feverishly from beneath the dark hood. “You nasty children ruined my life, my reputation, and my peace of mind! It’s only fitting that you should experience some of that yourselves before leaving this place.”  
  
“We didn’t ruin anything - you did that all _yourself!_” Harry replied. He glanced at his friends for support, but Hermione was looking away uncomfortably.  
  
“Oh really?” Snape asked, his tone dangerous. “What about ‘The Case of the Vanishing Towels’? Or - as it _should_ be named - ‘The Case of the Wrongly Accused Professor?’”  
  
Harry chewed on that thought for a minute. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he decided.  
  
This seemed to incense Snape, as he thrashed about for a moment before giving up on the ropes once more. “You _spread rumors_, you _cast doubt on my character_, you _framed_ me. Do you remember _that?_”  
  
Harry shook his head defiantly, and he heard a soft groan from Hermione. “Harry...Harry, you _did_,” she said. “Remember? When the towels kept vanishing in the Prefect’s bathroom while people were bathing, you immediately accused Professor Snape. Err, _publicly_, if I recall correctly.”  
  
“Yes,” sneered Snape. “Quite publicly. In the middle of the _Great Hall_. Standing on top of a table like the arrogant bastard his father was-”  
  
“How _dare_ you talk about my father!” Harry yelled.  
  
“How _dare_ you forget the grief you caused me! How _dare_ you forget the setbacks you wrought on my professional career! I would have been promoted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts if it hadn’t been for _you_.”  
  
“This is ridiculous,” Harry blustered, though he was starting to remember that case and feel that maybe - just maybe - he had gone _slightly_ overboard with his accusations.  
  
“What’s _ridiculous_ is the amount of parents that wrote in to have me removed from the school after your little stunt, and that Dumbledore had no choice but to put me on probation, even though _he already knew_ that it was Peeves behind it at that point.”  
  
“Err, well, Peeves was being fairly good that year, so we didn’t think it was him-”  
  
“You didn’t _want_ it to be him, Potter, because you wanted to ruin my career,” Snape seethed. He let out a cruel, mirthless laugh. “So it’s only fair that everyone wakes up tomorrow, wondering where ‘The Golden Trio’ is, and finds you here - muddy and bested, on display for the whole school to see.”  
  
“I still don’t think that fits the crime,” Harry said, face heating with embarrassment over this whole confrontation. “And through this plot, you’ve become the villain you swore you weren’t that year.”  
  
“People thought I was a _pervert_, Potter.” Snape’s glare, if possible, grew sharper. “Because of you. You and your little sidekicks-”  
  
“_Silencio_,” Hermione cast. “I think that’s enough. Harry was wrong, but you weren’t justified in capturing us, sealing our magic, and forcing hallucinogens on students.” She looked to Ron and Harry. “Come on, let’s take him to Dumbledore.”  
  
Snape’s eyes grew wide at that, and he wriggled some more, but ultimately he had no choice but to cooperate. When he realized this, he sagged in his bonds.  
  
And with that, their final case as students of Hogwarts drew to a close.  
  
They cast a featherlight spell on Snape, floating him in front of them as they trailed towards the castle. As they walked though, Harry couldn’t help but reminisce about their past cases. So many of his nights at this school had ended just like this - with a villain unmasked and taken to Dumbledore’s office. Peace and normalcy were returned to Hogwarts, and they could all go back to the dorms and sleep.  
  
But things were also changing. That much was undeniable. He glanced up at Malfoy, remembering his first year here and “The Case of the Fake Mountain Troll.” Malfoy, trying to get his attention even then, had pretended to be a mountain troll by climbing on Crabbe and Goyle’s shoulders and throwing a charmed cloak over them to give off a rather ghastly appearance. They had burst into the Gryffindor bathroom, hoping to scare Harry and his friends, and ended up knocked out on the floor when Ron had tripped into them, sending the human tower toppling.  
  
Harry had never guessed that he would be snogging Malfoy under the stars six years later, and after nearly drowning no less. Similarly, he had never guessed that Snape would actually be the culprit of one of his cases.  
  
He looked over at Hermione, still the brains behind every solved mystery, and Ron, the most loyal of friends, and felt a certain warmth filling his heart. Things were changing, they were _graduating_ \- that much was still true - but it didn’t mean that the important parts wouldn’t remain as well.  
  
After all, his checklist had been forged through shared experience, not his command.  
  
_First, he woke Ron.  
  
Next, they woke Hermione.  
  
Third, they got Fang.  
  
Fourth, they made a plan.  
  
Fifth, Malfoy came and ruined everything.  
  
Sixth, all hell broke loose_. But despite what happened - despite whatever they would face in the future - they came together and did it all again tomorrow. 

  


Harry gave Fang a pat on the head and slipped him the last handful of jelly slugs from his robes before following his friends towards the castle. Despite the chill, there was something of raw possibility in that breeze that made him smile.  
  
After tonight, dawn no longer seemed so bleak and heavy after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking out my story! This was extremely fun to write, as I love the idea of Harry, Ron, and Hermione getting to just be friends and solve low-stakes mysteries around Hogwarts. And, of course, Draco would still be a little bitch to get Harry's attention. Some things never change. 
> 
> I wanted to thank Nerdyskeleton for bouncing ideas around with me for the crew's past cases (regrettably, I couldn't make room to fit all the funny ones in). In addition to Harry Potter and Scooby Doo, I also drew some inspiration from Meddling Kids (by Edgar Cantero) for this fic. You should totally check it out - it's an amazing novel. Also, yes, there was a reference to the absurd Hogwarts/Squid fic "First Encounter" by Lyris Malachi. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!! Feel free to drop a comment telling me what you think (or to rant about how great Harry Potter AND Scooby Doo are)! 
> 
> xoxo


End file.
